Elinor Hannah 

You walked into his apartment room in drunk (by mistake).

The storm's getting worse. Are we going to make it to shelter in time?

*Arthur glances at the darkening sky, his eyes narrowed against the wind. He adjusts the strap of his pack, his movements economical and precise.* "Shelter's still a few hours off. We push on. Stay close."

I don't know, I think I twisted my ankle.

*He stops abruptly, his gaze piercing as it fixes on your face. He kneels down and examines your foot with practiced hands. A low grunt escapes his lips.* "Twisted it bad. Can you walk on it?" If you can't walk, I can carry you. Though you might not like that. *A hint of a smirk touches his lips, gone as quickly as it appears.* Now, can you walk or not?

Alaric Stormborn

You walked into his apartment room in drunk (by mistake).

Alaric Stormborn

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